Shiedey Vea Gauree
by Shaynie
Summary: The Sidhe always play for keeps. The brothers are about to get in the middle of a giant game, with each other on different sides. Soon the brothers are forced apart in a deadly game that can only end one way... with one winner.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Shiedey Vea Gauree (winter's kiss of life)

Author: Shaynie

Rating: T

Summary: Here's a little back story for those completely unaware of who, and what the Sidhe are. 'Sidhe' is a word for what basically boils down to being fairy. There are two courts to the Sidhe – one is the Seelie, or 'light' court, and the other is the Unseelie, or 'dark' court, both have pros and cons to them, and neither are good though the Seelie claim to be more 'pure' then the Unseelie. Crossing either is really not to be recommended.

Disclaimer: Of course they're not mine, but if they were I really wouldn't complain. Seeing as I've seen all of two episodes of 'Supernatural' if anything does not quite jibe, I'll be happy to fix.

* * *

Dean glanced over at Sam and smiled gently. His younger brother was currently curled up into as much of a ball as could be done in the Impala. The car was generally comfortable enough for him, or as comfortable as comfort can be in a car, but for Sam, well, there were some things he didn't envy his brother. The added height was one of them. The prophetic dreams was the other. Sam grimaced in his sleep and Dean grimaced along with him. He shook his brother, perhaps a little too roughly, and turned back to the road.

Sam opened his eyes muzzily. "Eugh. I need to find a place to dekink sometime soon."

"Oh really? I didn't realize you were all that kinky. Where do you hide all of those whips?"

Sam glared at his brother, refusing to respond to the jibe.

They continued on in silence, ignoring the road signs and inconsistent traffic as much as possible. Their destination wasn't too far off, though they were uncertain of what to expect once they reached the metropolis. As much as any Canadian city could be considered a metropolis. Vancouver was fairly large, but it was no Los Angeles. It was odd for them to be crossing the border in search of anything, but the anonymous text message sent to Dean's cell was fairly explicit on where they should be heading. And, it wasn't too far away from their stop in Seattle, so it wasn't too hard to follow instructions.

Dean stopped at the next convenience store they uncovered on their way towards Vancouver. It was, like many other stops they had made, at a no name store in the middle of nowhere. Sam stumbled out a of the car, popping various bones as he stretched.

"So, any guesses? We're off the beaten track here, going somewhere new and exotic."

"You have an odd definition of exotic, Sammy-boy. Canada isn't the most exotic locale I can think of. But they do have a fairly big Asian population there, maybe something from that mythology. A kitsune maybe, but that would be too playful. My guess is a yuurei. But no promises. I have no idea. What about you, any bets?"

"No clue." A rueful grin. "Though maybe you could clue me in. But the exact coordinates are for somewhere on the coast. One of the smaller beaches in Kitsilano."

"This'll be our last stop then. It's only three hours to Vancouver from here, and then wherever Kitsilano is. We'll stop there for a few days."

Sam nodded, then turned into the store as Dean filled the Impala with gas. They would have a long road ahead of them, but hopefully they could stay at a nicer place then usual. After all Kitsilano was one of the trendier places in Vancouver, they would probably have to spring for a decent B&B if he was lucky. With a real bed.

Kitsilano was nothing like Dean had originally expected. For some reason, quaint neighbourhoods seem to colour his view of the Canadian landscape. Non-stop suburbia, and perhaps some nice people just standing around offering directions to strangers on street corners covered with lemonade stands and girl guides. Not expensive little nook stores and even more expensive restaurants. Vancouver was actually destroying any image of putting quaint, Canadian or metropolis together. Though some of the buildings were older in the downtown core (they had gotten turned around going into Vancouver and had ended up downtown before finding Kitsilano), there were huge metal and glass buildings everywhere, and their public transport system had some potential. But they were nearing their destination now, a B&B Sam had found when they holed up in one of the many Starbucks he'd seen. Wireless internet was good for something at least.

The B&B they found was in an older house ("a character house") that seem to be in constant renovations, the building itself was settled into a residential area and the caretakers were two elderly sisters. The rooms that Dean and Sam had were connected, and had a bathroom connected as well. It was basically a private suite, and it cost almost triple any motel room they had found, exchange rate and all.

"Gorgeous," was all Sam said on the matter, collapsing onto the bed as soon as he found it.

Dean glared at his younger sibling, but realized it was probably a good idea to grab some sleep anyways. "Tomorrow we start hunting."

"Tomorrow we start researching." Sam murmured back from his 'dead' sleep.

Dean shrugged and slumped off to his own bed to sleep. He slammed the door behind him a bit more forcefully then he had intended, and collapsed into his own bed, finding oblivion.

Sam cracked an eye open when Dean left, and then slowly stood up. He grabbed his laptop and pulled out the research he had started at the coffee shop earlier. Thankfully Vancouverites had pretty much embraced the technological age, and there was wireless internet accessible from every room in the B&B. Definitely an upgrade from their normal squalor, and cable free made his life easier. He settled into one of the comfier lounge chairs in the room. Though the beds were covered in fluffy pillows and endless homemade quilts, the chairs were all modern innovations and held real comfort as opposed to the older style straight-back chairs that would have looked more "period" in the house.

He wasn't truly trying to be duplicitous by sneaking around, but Dean really needed sleep. He also probably wasn't going to get much in the way of _real_ sleep with the way things had been going recently and the amount of nightmares that had been the norm, so he might as well do some research while he could.

The newspaper articles concerning local crimes were pretty high, but moving to _unsolved _crimes made the search much easier. There had been a rash of disappearances in the area of late. Young men from one certain club in the area, _The Sithean_. _Sithean_ had a reputation for being a bit of gay hangout, was pretty much only attended by men and had a slight issue with drugs. Ecstasy was common, and so was LSD as far as the newspapers seemed concerned. It was still a hot spot on the nightclub scene, even with the many abductions.

The young men who disappeared all seemed to be exceedingly attractive, and fairly well muscled. This observation seemed to be repeatedly written by the varying female writers, and ignored by their male counterparts. Objectively the men had probably been attractive at some point, but the mauled creatures that the press had pictures of were definitely not. The men all seemed to be reappearing weeks, and sometimes months later, in varying states of dead washed up to shore on a beach. Many had stab wounds on them, and were either covered in what appeared to be frostbite or scorch marks around the wounds. Authorities were confused, and they seemed to be finding no new evidence to point them towards the killer. There was no forensic evidence in the bodies, no fingerprints or skin samples to be salvaged that did not belong to the victims. The gay community was up in arms against the police, claiming that they weren't doing enough to stave off the killer _because_ the men were all gay. Truthfully the police were simply stumped.

It was difficult enough to ascertain who a killer was when there was a set pattern, but as of yet the only real pattern that could be defined was that the men were generally being taken from one bar. The killer, or killers, had alternated bars though, and nowhere seemed really safe. Sam marveled at the fact that people still went out with this problem facing them, but the men were all young and idealistic enough to think they were invincible. He had thought that way once, but it had been short lived. The first time he had been stabbed but what he had assumed was a harmless, and immaterial, ghost he realized that he wasn't all that durable. And Dean, who was, in so many ways, much tougher then him, was even less so as he generally stepped in the way of danger for _him_. There wasn't much that could be done until they had actually staked out the club, so Sam turned off his laptop. He glanced out the window of his room and contemplated the tree he couldn't see beyond.

Sam shook his head, perplexed. He wrote all the information down, and threw the pad onto the table. It was now, he rubbed his gritty eyes as he glanced at his watch, past two, and they would have to get some actual interviews done tomorrow. He looked at the bed, innocently waiting for him. He crawled into it, hoping that no nightmares would crop up to disturb the minute amount of slumber he would get.

* * *

_The fog covered the ground around him, and he moved around as stealthily as he could with the gigantic sword in his hand. It pulsed with a warm, strong throb like a heartbeat and he found the heat almost comforting in his hand. He realized, with a start, he was carrying the huge sword effortlessly with one hand, but he lost control of the thought as he heard a twig snap. _

_He whirled around, facing the enemy in the guard stance, awaiting the pounce of the other man. Though he knew himself to be honourable, he knew that the other man was not, and could never be with the affiliations he kept. He would have to be careful. He also knew that though the clothing he wore was strong, it was nothing compared to the armour the other man had on. Black glinted in the half light, silver shimmering almost dreamlike along the edges. The other man held himself back, but seemed wary._

_The landscape around them seemed almost featureless, though he knew there to be a lush forest around them. The gray filled almost every aspect of his senses, but he kept his attention on the man in front of him. There still seemed to be something familiar about him, but he could never place him._

"_Why do you continue this dance?" The question was unexpected, but he didn't let his guard down. Instead he started at the man more keenly, preparing an attack if an opening should appear. The other man was a better warrior, he knew this instinctively, but he had stronger faith, and that would win out in the end._

"_This "dance" as you call it, will allow for the truth and honour to be the norm rather than something that could be tossed aside as your side is wont. Worry not, the end will be swift and full of mercy."_

_With that he struck, unleashing on the other man a rain of blows that would have felled a weaker warrior. The sense of familiarity was so close..._

_

* * *

_

Dawn broke through his dream and Sam woke, sweat dripping down his face. He felt like he had been punched repeatedly, his eyes refusing to track. Although he did not have anyway to tell the dream 'self' the truth while trapped in the vision, he knew the voice that had haunted the creature that had been him. He had heard that voice since he was a baby, and that voice made sure he was safe even now. He pushed his wet bangs out of his face.

That voice belonged to Dean, but not a Dean that he could recognize. A Dean that had been pushed to the edge of sanity.

The bar wasn't open until much later, but Dean managed to wrangle them a way in to talk with the manager. Unlike most bars, this one seemed to have two 'fronts'. There was a store open during the day, housing merchandise and a local chapter of the gay and lesbian organization. Dean had, conveniently, forgotten to mention that he and Sam were brothers, and it seemed they were to play the young, gay couple once more. Sam ground his teeth a bit, but he knew better then to bust his brothers 'plans' when they were being enacted. It galled him that Dean seemed to enjoy the charade, but then his brother was easily amused.

The manager greeted them both with two kisses on either cheek and a hug. The man was, it seemed, French-Canadian, originally from Quebec City, and his almost outlandish personality was just this side of overhearing. Sam noticed that man wore one silver hoop on one ear, and not the other. He was impeccably dressed in a grey wool tailored suit, which paled next to his layered black hair. His green eyes were extremely bright, and he seemed to enjoy speaking with his hands. He accent was fairly light, which Sam definitely appreciated.

"Salut. I am Jean-Paul. I am the manager here, and I hear you two are journalists, here to cover the evil killer for your own magazine. Hopefully people of your own nature will cover the story in all of its evil areas. I will try and be as helpful as possible to you. What would you like to know?"

They grilled Jean-Paul for almost an hour, but they found nothing new. Dean was almost ready to scream with frustration at the end of it, but he finally just smiled at the older frenchman, and asked to see the actual club.

"Why, of course you can look around. Though many of the men have been taken from here, there is really nothing to be said for it. There have been many clubs were people have been abducted. Please, take your time."

With that, the man wandered back into the store to help one of the younger cashiers. He smiled at her urbanely and showed her the proper procedure for unjamming the till.

Dean snorted and headed towards the club.

"Wait." Sam's voice cut him off.

"Yes?"

"Why don't we come back later. There's something that just doesn't work with what this guy told us. He's holding something back."

"Come on, Sammy, of course he's holding back. We're supposed to be journalists, he's not going to tell us everything."

Sam punched his brother at the hated pet name, and then turned around.

"I'll meet you later. I have something I need to do before I go in there."

Dean watched as Sam moved away from him, his back visible for a few moments as he walked out the door. He shuddered imperceptibly, trying to figure out why he felt an odd sense of dread as his baby brother left him.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Shiedey Vea Gauree (winter's kiss of life) Chapter 2

Author: Shaynie

Rating: T

Disclaimer: Of course they're not mine, but if they were I really wouldn't complain. Though, I doubt I'd have much time if they were. I also claim that the poem quoted here is amazing, and everyone should read it.

* * *

_Eyes I dare not meet in dreams  
In death's dream kingdom  
These do not appear:  
There, the eyes are  
Sunlight on a broken column  
There, is a tree swinging  
And voices are  
In the wind's singing  
More distant and more solemn  
Than a fading star. _

T. S. Elliot "The Hollow Men"

Sam walked out of the store/nightclub and sighed gratefully as he finally managed to break free from the web of lies Dean had so willingly and completely forged for them. Much like his own slew of fake identities, Dean had no real concept of where his own identity existed and where the lies stopped. Every time he watched his brother perform he felt ill, trying to ignore the clenching of his gut.

While Sam wanted to go back to the life he had with Jessica more with each passing day, he also knew how much Dean had changed because of the life he had abjured for 'normality'. He sighed; no matter what he did it never seemed to become any clearer, where he would end up seemed as much a mystery today as it had been the day Dean had come for him a few months ago.

Sighing once more, Sam turned towards the bed and breakfast they had been in that morning. Though the neighbourhoods all looked similar in the area, he knew his way back. One thing that had been drilled into them since they were children was a basic amount of attention to detail, especially in relation to escape routes and safe houses.

Other then needing to have some time alone, he really didn't have a problem with the plan. Hopefully anything preternatural or supernatural in the area would be drawn to him, mostly because of his own psychic abilities, and then they could assess the problem strategically.

He had spent some amount of time researching into local lore, but it just ended up almost overloading his already stressed psyche. There were too many immigrants in the area, too many settlers with their own unique cultures and folk lore for him to pin down one specific type of spirit it could be. Local legends left him with no real clue; nothing of the nature had ever happened before. All this research having been done the night previously, it was still running through his mind like broken background noise, waiting for something to 'click'.

He kicked the ground angrily, then halted himself. _This is silly_, he thought, his own voice pitiless, _I have to find something to do._

So, Sam stopped at the next open door. A card collection store of some sort, and he entered the dim interior of the store. It took him a few moments to adjust to the dim interior and he noticed the man standing in front of him. Rather like the store, the owner was unobtrusive and nodded to him a bit from where he stood reading what looked to be Dungeons & Dra from where Sam stood. He finished the last word at "dragons" and shuddered a bit. They played with these beings more often then their roleplaying counterparts did in jest, it was almost ironic. Almost.

He noticed that man also had another book open, this one with a colourful illustration, if completely fantastic, of a... _sprite_. Sam grinned, the things never looked like that in real life, but then, who was he to judge other people's entertainment – even if it did coincide almost painfully with his own life.

Maybe if he pretended it was all a game it would make it easier. That Jess wasn't actually...

He stopped, feeling his breath expel like he'd been punched. _Abort. Not continuing those thoughts_.

Sam asked the man for directions to a grocery store and he copied them down succinctly in his own memory. He thanked the man and continued on his way, the image of the sprite amusing him even in retrospection.

He managed to get their groceries without incident, and hopped into the express lane. Though Dean and him weren't exceptional cooks, Sam tried to make meals instead of just junk food from time to time – even if that food was just stuff to be put in the microwave or slapped onto bread. They had a fridge in the kitchen they were able to keep things in ("properly labeled of course, 'lest you want us to get into it. We're not as young as we used to be, and we forget sometimes."), so he grabbed some milk and juice as well. Coffee was free in the B&B they were at, thankfully, or Dean would have been burning through five cups of Starbucks espresso if he didn't watch his brother.

The till was quick, 12 items and under, but the man at the till gave Sam an odd look, multi hued ice coloured eyes sharpening in what Sam would have sworn was a sort of recognition. His name, displayed proudly on his nametag as Enid, was odd, but not so much so as to garner attention. Sam fumbled his debit card, the eyes unnerving.

The man smiled kindly, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Don't worry about it sir, it happens all the time."

Sam nodded, numbly and punched in his pin.

"See ya at _Sithean _tonight, babe." The man said.

"Huh?"

"Oh nothing, I just thought you should be careful with that wallet of yours. Not from around here right?"

Sam glared at the man, but could find nothing to really fault him with. He was odd, but there were no shortage of weirdos out there, and he probably had heard the man say something about _ Sithean_.

He grabbed the groceries and left, feeling oddly like he had missed something.

* * *

Dean paced their suite, waiting impatiently for Sam. What could be taking his younger sib?

Sam took that moment to blunder through their door, hands full of bags.

"Sammy. Where the hell were you? Do you not realize there's something out there trying to kill young men."

Sam glared witheringly at his brother. "Yes, I'm aware Dean. But we needed food. And it wasn't like I had anything else better to do. Plus, that big nasty man stealer is taking _gay_ men from clubs. Neither of which I seem to be right now."

Dean snorted, but perked up at the mention of food. He started rifling through the bags, pulling out what was obviously for him. Sam had even remembered the Twinkies this time. Dean was not proud of their typical diets, but he had developed an unhealthy obsession with the cream filled pastry while they had been traveling. He ignored Sam's knowing chuckle and continued to rifle. "Good haul." was all he said at the end, like he would had his brother gone fishing and actually caught something.

In a way it was similar. They fished almost as often as they made it to grocery stores.

"So what have you found out since I left?"

Dean squirmed a bit under scrutiny. "Uh... nothing really. The manager didn't have much else to say. I guess we just go to _ Sithean_ tonight and see where that takes us."

"That simple?"

Dean looked up, stubborn set to his face. "Yeah."

Sam shrugged. Their plans were generally no more complex. No need to start changing things now.

"Have you checked out the journal yet?"

Dean nodded. "Nothing following our freak out in the book that I could tell. Don't worry Sam, nothing will happen tonight. We just get to pretend to be _closer_ again."

Sam shivered. The way Dean had said 'closer' had almost seemed too smug, too cat-who-got-cream-and-mouse for his liking.

_Sithean _was a popular hangout for a reason. Only the best of the best, of the luckiest got into the swanky gay club at night, and most female "fag hags" were left in the dust as their male counterparts ditched them at the door. Dean had tried to talk with them, until Sam had dragged him away kicking and screaming. Jean-Paul had already cleared their entrance at the door, and though were a few moans at the 'gate-crashers', most of the men just commented on the sexy new couple, blowing kisses until the brothers disappeared.

The inside of the club was just as swanky as the lineup indicated. Drinks weren't as cheap as they might normally be, but no one was batting an eye at the prices, and the amount of alcohol was definitely worth the extra cash. Dean and Sam moved into the club proper, and they were both simultaneously grabbed at from behind. They both jumped, and turned towards what looked to be an overly done up drag queen. Hideous green prom dress, bright tri-coloured eye makeup, and sparkly red lipstick. Other then the makeup, he made a convincing she.

Or she was a good she.

Sam stopped trying to figure out the gender pronoun that was p.c. When he realized the other man, no woman, was talking to them.

"Now boys, you have to get a drink as soon as you walk in. Here. Two on the house for such a cute couple as yourselves."

The drag queen was apparently a waiter... waitress.

Sam sighed, and took the drink. It was just polite, and they could drop it later. He'd only get drinks directly from the bartender tonight, and he knew Dean would as well.

"So... spread out?" Sam whisper-shouted into Dean's ear over the pounding dance music.

Dean nodded, and the two split up.

Sam moved into the throng of dancers, expected to have to knock a few of the overzealous off of himself, but he felt silly a moment after thinking it. There wasn't a reason to expect that from the men here, so he relaxed a bit and fell into the rhythm of... _Cher? How typical_.

Something that had surprised him when he had been with Jessica was how much he actually liked to dance. It wasn't normal, but Jessica had loved him for it. It was fun, he found, he could loose himself in the music and not have to worry about anything attacking him. He'd be able to run if something did attack and in the chaos, hopefully get lost.

He fell into the music wholly, dropping away cares as he swung to the music. His movements became more and more languorous as he felt the beat slowing. He closed his eyes, and wrapped his arms around himself, slinking into the movements. He felt the shift as people began to move away from him, heard the few appreciative sounds and ignored them. Dancing now was for him, and the loneliness of his movements must have garnered some sort of attention, as he swung his hips, feeling friction against him and he opened his eyes in surprise.

There, standing before him in all the glory of a springs day, was Enid. The man behind the cash at the grocery store. Enid was currently hiding his ice coloured eyes behind golden glasses that framed his face perfectly. His hair, a rich strawberry blond, hung down past his shoulders in slightly curling layers. The man's entire presence almost screamed ethereal in the club's flashing lights and sounds, but Sam just stood, entranced by the man in front of him.

Though he would have never claimed attraction to men before, he realized slowly, that perhaps he should reconsider. The man in front of him was the most gorgeous creature he had ever...

_But Jessica..._

With a wrench, Sam looked at Enid again, and the pulling quality of his looks had faded.

"So, you did expect me..."

Enid nodded, his eyes sparkling carefreely. "I have expected you for a long while, hunter."

Sam froze at the last word, checking to see where Dean was unobtrusively. His brother caught his eye and started heading over.

"Ah, hunters always did like to play in pairs. Time to play is almost over now, dearheart. I'll see you on the morrow." With that Enid skipped away from him.

Dean managed to get there just as the other man had disappeared. Sam stuttered a bit, and shook his head. "I think we may have found it." He finally breathed.

"Yeah, well, there's more then that to worry about. We have more company."

Another man had started to stalk towards them, this one had a pull of intensity towards him that seemed almost sharp. His hair was just as long as Enid's, but it was jet black. The man's skin was a pale, almost cadaverous white, and his eyes were a striking violet. He was tall, much taller then Sam, and his clothing was made of what looked to be black leather. He leaned into Dean, _sniffing_ the man, and Dean almost belted him one. Almost.

"Dude, what the fuck!" Dean shouted. A few of the men around them noticed, but just edged away a little. They knew a lover's quarrel when they saw one.

"You, lightning, will be ours by tomorrow."

"The hell I will!"

"We'll see my shining black knight."

Dean moved towards the other man, intending to hit, but suddenly his vision blurred and he sank to the ground. Sam gave a yelp of surprise and grabbed his brother. "You allright?"

Dean grunted.

"Hey. Dean..."

Dean turned to Sam. "He's gone isn't he..."

Sam turned to look, and sighed. "Let's get out of here..."

Normally, they wouldn't take watches when they were staying in hotels, instead trusting their own protections and locks to alert them is something was amiss. This was not normally. Something about the two men had spooked the brothers, and taking up camp wouldn't hurt.

Dean looked at Sam when they first got back to their room. "First watch?" He offered. Sam nodded.

Dean gratefully fell onto the bed, hardly taking time to change. The clubbing clothing they had found was nothing is not overdone. He had hoped to go in regular jeans, but Sam had insisted, and he had finally ended up taking a pair of leather pants and collared white shirt. He had looked respectable enough, he had even managed to get a few catcalls walking around the bar area. He sniggered.

Sam for his own part, took a seat in one of the comfortable easy chairs, leaning against the wall and getting as much of the room in his view. He held the shotgun with him, holding rocksalt as usual, and he had a few knives next to him.

The night was dark, and although he tried to stay awake as long as possible, sleep eventually stole over him. His chin fell onto his chest, and he let out a small snore.

Enid strode into the room. "Sammy boy. Wake up dearheart, we must talk quickly..."

Sam woke up at his name and froze at the sight of the other man. He jumped to his feet, throwing the knives at the other man.

"Oh, hunter, do continue. But I have something for you, and you must take it now." Suddenly the charm was on full force, more so then before, and Sam reached towards the other man unconsciously taking the bottle offered. "Drink up for strength, hunter. You'll need it."

Sam did so woodenly, and he took a step towards Enid, almost drunkenly. The world moved around him much faster then he could feel, and the room became steadily more fuzzy as the seconds went by. Suddenly he fell forward, Enid grabbing him lest the noise disturb the other.

"Sleep well, hunter. We have much to discuss you and I."


End file.
